


Arabian Nights [English Version]

by Berryberrynoizy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arabian AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:38:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berryberrynoizy/pseuds/Berryberrynoizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emir Erwin Smith loves belly dancers and loves to collect them at his palace. Every movements has one reason to be and every of them let show a part of the very soul of the dancer, if the dancer is talented enough. Despair and sadness makes the prettier souls, so one can't help but help dancers to be flooded by them in order to be a wonderful sight. And now, he just bought two new additions to his collections : a young promising dancer, Armin, and one of the most famous dancer in the emir, Levi.</p>
<p>Trigger warning : Erwin is a full on pervert and an abusive man in this story. There will be violence and rape in the next chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude of the first night

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Arabian Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049674) by [Berryberrynoizy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berryberrynoizy/pseuds/Berryberrynoizy). 



> Don't ask me how ERWIN SMITH can be the name of an emir or even to look like one. Just... don't.  
> This is one of the few works for which I'm not gonna make a lot of researches for, so I'm sorry for all the inaccuracies this story will contain.
> 
> Thank you so, so, so much to Kin-no-Hana for her big help with the translation and correction !  
> Also, kudos and comments are appreciated. Please le me know if there is any mistakes left.

Every move has its reason for existing. Every footstep tells a story. Every sight, a downcast sentiment. Without truly stopping time, dance represents life with its sensuality, its hopes, and its pains. For ones who wish to see it, the dancer will bare a part of their naked soul to him.

However, only a few people could see this. They saw the hips’ movements, the smiles and the bewitching looks. The dancers’ furrowed brow allowed their focus to be seen and heard on occasion with irregular, broken breaths, molded by their moves. Their audience, in spite of how much effort spent on the dancers’ behalves, body and soul, most only saw fun or sensuality.

Erwin Smith, the emir, was part of the first and rare category. Arts, adventures, and pleasure’s lover, he deciphered every opening of the dancers: to exhibit oneself in a complete surrender, nor to hide and protect oneself behind perfect and indifferent skills. An equilibrium game and a never ending fight between modesty and exhibition was the better performance. Those ones from which he could never feel satisfied with, for the best and worst of those caught his eyes.

Like Levi.

If the weight of an emir’s responsibilities were sometimes heavy on Erwin’s shoulders, that weight came with an equally weighty retribution. He was almost smiling without being conscious of doing so. The transaction was coming to its end and he was happy of his new acquisitions: Levi, a famous dancer known in all the country, and a small blonde boy without any true reputation but promising dance skills. After being polished by the other dancers working under Erwin, Armin would show the same amount of talent, if only he were to put serious effort in his everyday practice sessions. The emir’s palace, in which they were not allowed much beyond dancing and singing practice, was the better place to learn. Armin, with his young face, pale, honest, and with his emotions strongly visible through his features, Erwin could not refrain himself from imagining how much fun and exciting his new toy would be.

Levi, already in this world for a long time, had learned to close his real feelings from the public eye. However, when he danced, we could detect his deeper melancholies usually buried beneath that mask.  
Armin and Levi had almost nothing in common but their small size. However, the first one was still growing. Nothing was set in stone. As for Levi, there was no worry left. Erwin had no real physical preferences but this size criterion. He preferred his dancer small, almost delicate. It was not their size itself, which pleased him; it was the more dominant feeling it invoked. Being able to bend them to his will, to hold them, to force them to submit to him, for him, or under him, that was what he really enjoyed. Man or woman, young or old, blonde, brunette, hair colored like fire, black, golden, or translucent skin, Erwin’s harem was made of dancers from various backgrounds and of every look. Every one of them, submitted to his pleasure.

With the agreement reached, the emir would send someone to fetch the two men at the end of the month. Until then, they could not dance without the emir’s permission. This was allowed to the end of the week. In order to respect the agreement between the deluxe bordello where his new acquisitions had now previously performed, Erwin offered to everyone, owner, prostitutes, dancers, musicians, staff, usual customers, gifts and pleasure for three days nonstop. 

Without wasting any time to call for Armin and Levi, the man and his attendants left the place, leaving the fortunate owner the pleasure of breaking the news.


	2. Levi and Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin and Levi were bought by the emir, but life goes on. There is still a week before their departure for the palace.  
> Daily life in the bordello.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big thank you to Kin-no-Hana for helping to translate ! Bless her ~!

The news of Levi’s purchase surprised no one. Some offers had already been made in the past. The bordello had rejected them quickly; as the overall value offered had not been enough to cover the profit lost upon losing Levi. The buyer’s reputation did not matter much to the bordello’s owner, Shanktar, for who business stayed business. He was not interested in playing matchmaker. When his dancers left the place, he no longer cared for them.

The bordello’s appearance attested to the luxury of the place and its aristocratic debauchery, but the artists and prostitutes – often with overlapping responsibilities – were not free men or women. They were little more than slaves. To be bought was often the best escape from this world. For bought artists, the chances to enhance their conditions were not very high; most often they kept a similar lifestyle, but in different settings, a limited public, and in turn less gifts and entertaining events. However, sometimes the buyer was a true dance lover and wanted to take the artist or prostitute as his wife or concubine. Men were almost never offered this way of getting out of this world. Most of them, no matter how badly they complained, feared the day they would have to walk away from the place.

A less prestigious way existed for both women and men: old age and illness. Both were meant to be thrown away to the streets to die. Sure, it was possible to find a new to practice their art or their “commerce de la chair”. Despite everything, the descent into hell was initiated and the beautiful years spent slaving away would never come back. After all, they could eat meat one day every week, and sometimes they could even have more if there were celebrations. 

Most of their clients were regulars and most of them rich men with their favorite dancer who, in exchanges for some private favors, they bought lots of presents: perfumes, jewelry, luxurious fabrics, art pieces, to name only a few. Shanktar did not all the dancers to freely enjoy their gifts. A long time ago, he had claimed that every gift belonged to the lupanar, although under certain conditions the use of these could be allowed to its recipient under limited circumstances. Everything was dependent upon the client. If the client hoped for a particular purpose, then the use was reserved. But access to these were not free, with rare exceptions. 

Shanktar and his subordinates chose everything to daily outfits, jewelry and accessories, perfumes, hairstyles, rest days and days of work, and the roles of each slave who was not specialized to a certain task. Artworks established their headquarters in the public areas of the establishment or in the apartments of the owner, which had no longer envied the noble palace. Shanktar deserved what he took, he thought, since the success of the brothel depended on himself. Administrator at heart, everything was counted, weighed, and kept in thick ledgers.

Among the recipient’s exceptions, Levi was the most favored. He had his own room, consisting of two rooms with carpeted floors and wall hangings, cushions made of the finest fabrics more pretty to the eye than comfortable, along with some small, elegant furniture. Incense sticks and other perfumes burned continuously. Here and there we could see some musical instruments. 

There was also a Toofah, a small tarsius. One of the customers who had loved most the star dancer practiced trade with distant eastern countries. One day, he had come to the bordello, accompanied by the caged beast and offered it as a gift to Levi.

“When I saw it, I thought about you”, admitted the man. He smiled softly. Levi frowned. “Why?” asked the dancer, without trying to hide his revulsion for the little beast, probably not so hygienic. Like all the gifts this man gave him.

The customer laughed heartily. Knowing how his favorite dancer would respond to this admission, he was already amused. “Your height.” A moment of silence, then broken by swearing made the man laugh more. He was enamored with the little man in a certain way. He spent regularly a fortune to book the star of the bordello for hours, but he never laid a hand on him. Levi fascinated him. However, Levi was a man and he preferred women in bed, even if he liked better the performance of male dancers to their female counterparts.

This man regularly offered him birds, which were now singing around the brothel thanks to him. Only a handful remained in Levi’s room. All of them were trapped in magnificent cages. The dancer tried to get rid of them, but the customer had complained and the birds were back immediately. He loved watching Levi dance while he could hear their chirping. “If he gets hard over birds he can go live in their shit for all I care, but for fucks sake could he not bother me with them?” said Levi to Shanktar, bringing with him the cages. Levi could not stand the shrill cry of the beasts. The monkey at least was silent. And he had already eaten a bird. Or two, perhaps. One day, the dancer had inadvertently left open the cage door in hope they would fly elsewhere. Unfortunately, with the tips of their wings being cut, the animals knew more hovering than flying.

The tarsier had not taken a bird as a meal since. Levi did not know the reason, but it would swallow all of them if it were up to him.

A consistent noise approached his room. Levi recognized well the familiar sound of Armin’s anklet of bells. “Levi, I’m coming in,” announced the teenager as he pushed open the draperies at the entrance of the room. A growl was the only reply he got.

Armin had lived in the bordello for barely over a year. Shanktar annually bought children to train them properly for a future occupation. If slaves had nowhere to go, no family, no friends, and no knowledge of the outside world, it was much easier to control and keep them under his yoke, which was almost the case of Armin.

Many other artists had arrived at the brothel when they were older, purchased because of their talent or for other special reasons. These were frequently problematic. They often had a more competitive, more aggressive attitude, and did not accept the loss of their gains earned by the sweat of their brow. As Levi.

Son of a cultural minority in the country, Armin was alone when a contagious disease raged in the country and took his parents’ life. The blonde child did not stay in the streets for long before he was kidnapped to become a slave. His golden hair attracted attention and his large eyes delighted people who saw them. Blonde hair was not common in this part of the world, even if people crossed a wheat-colored hair occasionally. He remained a curiosity, a pleasure for the unaccustomed eye.

Unlike Levi, Armin was not born a dancer. He was persistent to improve though. He practiced from morning to night. A few months ago, people laughed at him, but he was now able to give an acceptable performance. Seeing his tenacity, Levi had taken him under his wing. The teenager had a hidden talent in him. He just needed to be given help to discover and develop his talent. He had a sense of rhythm, was able to quickly understand the meaning behind gestures, the logic in the sequence, and his eyes already gave away a glimpse of the feelings dance lovers were so fond of, the real dance lover who asked rarely for sexual gestures. The emotions and sensuality of the dance were enough for them.

Armin still lacked grace and precision in his movements, and he could not hold an uncomfortable position for a long time. At this stage of his training, most of the movements and positions became difficult to hold after about ten seconds, but he bore on much longer with his determination. His tenacity pleased Levi.

Arms outstretched, the blonde moved slowly and was arching his back. His fingers and arms slid in the air as if he was playing with the strings of a harp. The dancer kept bringing his back nearer to the ground by bending his knees. Armin was afraid of falling backwards. He put more strength in the movement of the arms to stay balanced. In doing so, the concentration could easily be seen on his face. Frowning, his jaw clenched, and he did his best to keep up. Levi could have sworn he heard growling.

“Oi, your face. You look like you’re constipated. It’s not what people pay you for,” said the dancer.

To answer, Armin tightens his teeth more while maintaining the pose. A click of the tongue was heard. Levi approached. An anxious feeling invaded the teenager. Not that he was ever not nervous when in the presence of the best dancer of the brothel. Levi also had a talent for intimidation. His attitude and vulgar language particularly played a role in distressing the young man.

Suddenly, a cold hand touched the hollow of his back and another at his shoulder.

“Move your gravity’s center lower, kid.”

Armin obeyed. Right away he lost balance. The hands of his elder prevented him from falling and Armin was able to resume. Finally, he fell when the hands’ touch abandoned contact.

He stood up and took the pose again.

Levi sat on the ground to do some stretching exercises while Armin was trying to discover the point of equilibrium needed. Legs stretched out before him, Levi lay on his own legs very easily. Because he had danced for so long, his body had acquired great flexibility.

“Why don’t you stop?” Levi asked in a tone of mockery.

Armin knew that the question was rhetorical. Levi did not expect an answer. He wanted the youth to remember the source of his motivation. This reinforced his desire to improve. He wanted to become a good dancer. He had to become a good dancer. It was the only way he had to fight, to make his way into the brothel’s hierarchy, and be almost free of those perverse hands that touched every centimeter of his skin. He did not want to get stuck in the role of a prostitute. Dance allowed him to earn status and a different interest from the public.

To dance was to fight in order to live as a man.

After a few hours, Armin collapsed for good. He cast a glance at his teacher, who was sitting on the edge of a window. The boy hesitated, then ventured: “Levi, what about you? Why do you dance?” The question seemed stupid. Levi had taught him that dancing would restore their dignity and their right to exist in this society. Obviously, it was because of that. 

Levi looked up. Birds chirped and he could stand no more of it.

No answer ever came, and the silence stretched. Then, while turning his head towards the horizon, Levi put his arm on his drawn up knee and placed his chin there to rest. Toofah was sleeping beside his master.

“I dance in order to not die,” he snapped finally. Then silence settled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I love when people write what they were listening to when writing, I'll do it too from now on. <3 
> 
> The Toids - Ilahi  
> Taraf De Haïdouks - Lelita Cîrciumareasa  
> Madlax OST - A Tropical Night  
> Bakuretsu Tenshi OST - Yuuhi no Gun Human


End file.
